Chapter 7: Counterattack

Seconds later Amanda heard Mike's voice. "Amanda, are you all right? We have a lot of trouble brewing here in San Diego. The new chief of police has sworn out a warrant for your arrest charging you with assaulting a police officer. He sounds real worked up about it. According to him you hounded that poor refugee from Dunkin Doughnuts into his acts of retaliatory desperation.

"Also, if you can believe this, according to him Mark entrapped the poor man with promises of kinky sex. So the whole thing is your fault. Mark is named as your willing accomplice and his mother swears her son was obedient as all get out before he met you. You better get your lawyers busy. Believe me, this is serious.

"The city is looking at millions of dollars in potential damages between the two of you if you sue and win. Which means right now the bastards have their knives sharpened and the spin meisters are busy spinning.

"Now, do you have anything to say in your defense I can air without getting fined by the FCC?"

Amanda took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I intend to answer those false charges and allegations in court at the very earliest time possible. Furthermore I shall ask the governor to investigate charges of financial mismanagement on the part of the mayor of San Diego and the corrupt gang of thieves he runs with. The next thing will be to sue for personal damages.

And the last item is that I shall ask for an investigation of anyone and everyone in that nutty church the Cantrell's belong to. This Thorney character reminds me of stories I heard about a John Joe Horne who ran a religion con out here in the eighties and nineties. That charlatan scammed my mother out of her savings. If you want any help looking into things on your own I'll foot the bill for any investigators you might require.

She collected her thoughts then continued, "I was going to let the whole matter drop, since that nut was no longer on the police force. But this is now a whole new ball game. I have been shot, beaten and hounded. Mark has been beaten twice, assaulted and injured in that drunken fool of a judge's courtroom and almost anally raped by a deranged member of the San Diego Police Department who barely has the necessary equipment with which to commit such an act.

There are some nice cops In San Diego. Nevertheless, that police department down there also has more than its fair share of clowns that make the Keystone Cops look good in comparison. I'm mad and I'm going to fight in ways you ain't even seen yet."

"Get 'em Tiger. You have given me enough for an update. I mailed a package to your agent Sam Cashman. I instructed him to bring it to you. It might be ammunition for you to use. Here, I'll give you my cell phone number in case you need to contact me in a hurry." Mike rattled off the number. The two hung up.

Amanda turned to speak to Mark and saw he was gone. She heard him yell from the bathroom. "No," he yelled, "No, no, no!"

She ran in and found him covering his eyes and gasping for air. "What happened? Are you hurt, tell me, what happened?"

"Oh my Lord my face! Oh no. I'm a monster and I look like a freak and ... Oh Amanda oh Lord no! I'm hideous, horribly disfigured." He began to moan.

"What took you so long to find out you have a few bruises?" she asked in exasperation.

"I have been afraid to look in the mirror since this happened. Then I ... Oh nooo, Amanda how could you stand to kiss me?" he turned from her and began to moan harder. "I'm so ugly," he wailed.

"Don't do this to me," Amanda begged, "This is unfair. I don't know how to handle something like this. Men should not be allowed to become emotional, not ever, no way." All she could do was to give him a couple of clumsy pats his on the back with her free hand and begged, "Please, will you stop doing this to me? Men and emotions ... Oh hell, nobody should be allowed to show any emotions. Good grief, I don't know what..." She helplessly waved her right hand in the air and started to walk back out of the bathroom.

"Amanda!" he begged, "Please don't leave me, please don't leave me." His pleas subsided. He told her in a dead voice, "If you leave me I'll be alone."

"Who in hell said anything about leaving you? For Pete's sake, what's the matter with you?" Anger started to build up inside her. She felt the stirrings of strong resentment toward him.

"Oh Amanda, Look at how disfigured I am. My face looks like a broken Halloween mask. All my life my father has told me how fine I look and Mother kept saying that if I lost my looks I'd never get a decent wife and..." He hiccuped and continued to stare at the floor.

"Why believe crap like that? Ugly men get married all the time." Her attempt to reassure him failed miserably. Damn, Amanda thought to herself, I'll never be a diplomat. Why do people have to have feelings?

"You admit I'm ugly." He still wouldn't raise his eyes to meet hers.

Amanda sighed and walked back to him. "Mark, I was not looking at your face when I said you are beautiful. I was looking at your body. It's still beautiful." His body stiffened.

"Look, most of the swelling will completely gone and forgotten. In two weeks there won't be a hint of your Technicolor skin. In three weeks it will all be a bad memory. Hey, you ought to see some of the bangs and bruises I get when a stunt goes wrong."

He relaxed a bit and asked, "What about the rest. My nose is a crooked mess and my lips are all disfigured. Oh Amanda, I'll never look like I did before that ... that evil person caused this to happen to me."

"Sweetheart, when you're fifty you won't look twenty. That's the way of life. Sure, I'll admit your handsome face and gorgeous body are what first grabbed hold of me. But so did your sweet innocence and the way you responded to me that day until I went all stupid on you. I blame myself that all this happened to you. I was just so stupid when we met and I was afraid of commitment. I did what a dumb person always does and ran."

"Do you really mean that?" he asked her hopefully. "Do you really and truly mean what you just said or are you merely humoring me?"

"I know just how to prove to you how much I mean what I said to you just now. I'm going to call Mike and have him come up here for an exclusive interview that will make him happy and reassure you." She drew him back into the kitchen with her. She activated the speakerphone installed next to the television and waited. They listened to the ringing and finally Dirk's voice came on, "Yo! This better be important." He sounded annoyed.

"Amanda Lust here, Dirk. Is Mike handy right now?"

"Uh, well it seems that Mike and the news director are having a bit of a discussion about you and which way to go from here on your story. There has been one hell of a lot of pressure put on all of us to drop you like a hot potato. Both political parties want this to blow over. There's something really screwy going on about all of this."

"Very well," Amanda answered him, "Put them both on. I have decided it's time to go public with everything and if that bunch you work for are offended or too gutless to do the story, I intend to hold a press conference here in LA and let the good people of San Diego learn by cable what has been going on in their town. It's their choice."

Mike's voice came on, "Amanda, you just said what I told Jim Cotton, our news director. This story is not going to dry up and blow away. Jim's here with me. Tell me what you have in mind and we'll go from there."

"What I have in mind is to appear on camera, have the doctor cut away my bandage and show the world the bullet wound. Mark will sit in front of the camera and answer all questions."

"No, Amanda! I can't do that, I won't." She winced from the sharp pain that coursed through her wounded.

She shook her head at him and continued, "Let the world see what a deranged cop, a drunken judge and a horribly mismanaged hospital have done to us, and especially to Mark.

"The loss of my house in San Diego is an inconvenience and nothing more. It was well insured. But the hurt done to Mark must be addressed and someone be must be made answerable. Also, I have a hunch he is not the only victim of rogue cops wearing badges when they should wear prison numbers." Look, if you don't want to do the interview, I'll call Roger Livingston and appear on his show."

She paused and added, "The TV stations and the Newspapers are all covering our story up here. Any of them would jump at the chance to do an exclusive on us. You remember that."

"This is Jim Cotton," a new voice came over the speaker. "If we run with this story, I have to insist we have exclusive rights to the story and editorial control. Otherwise no deal."

"Well, then it's no deal, sir." Amanda turned off the phone.

Just then Sam came bursting into the house out of breath. "Do you know what your friend the newsman sent me by messenger?" He paused for breath before he said, "Hi Mark."

"He sent you raw footage of the attempted rape, the cop with his gun in his hand and the nurse, as she beat the son of a bitch over the head with a bed pan," Amanda guessed accurately.

"Too bad that bedpan wasn't full when she hit him with it," Mark muttered darkly to himself.